


My Tiny Plastic Heart in Your Hands

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action Figures, Established Relationship, Fanboy Phil Coulson, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Not so much a fix-it as flat-out denial, Phil's Collection, Team Playdate, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's probably ridiculous, this wish he has to somehow be a part of Phil's collection. He's not jealous, not exactly -- Phil collects Cap memorabilia because it's what he's always done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Tiny Plastic Heart in Your Hands

 

The afternoon their action figures arrive, there is chaos in the tower.

A huge carton is delivered, and Tony and Clint and Thor instantly dig into it like five-year-olds. There are dozens of action figures in the carton -- a gross, the label says, this is the private lot set aside for the Avengers. Most of them will go to needy children and local after-school community centers and pediatric wards, because they don't need twelve dozen toys, but plenty of them get instantly torn open.

Bruce and Steve start out watching from a distance, but they are drawn in once the battles begin being waged through the common area. Natasha rolls her eyes as she watches them, but she looks pleased; her only demand was that her action figure be reasonably proportioned, and Tony's lawyers have made sure that's the case. They've also ensured that a healthy portion of every sale goes to the Rebuild Midtown Fund.

Tiny shields and Mjölnirs and arrows have been tossed all over the place -- Clint is ecstatic that the arrows are launchable until Bruce points out they're a choking hazard, only to promptly get a little plastic arrow to the nose, courtesy of both Hawkeyes. They are well on the way to disassembling Tony's hand-tooled Italian leather sofa to build a fortress when Coulson appears in the doorway, briefcase in hand, completely composed as he surveys the room.

"If I step on a tiny accoutrement in the middle of the night, you will all regret it," he notes pleasantly.

Tony smirks, clearly formulating a reply, but he chooses instead to reach out and grab a little Mjölnir when Phil narrows his eyes. A temporary armistice is declared while stray weapons are regathered.

After a moment, Phil turns on his heel and heads for the suite he and Clint share.

"Your boyfriend's a buzzkill," Tony tells Clint, and his shoulders instinctively hunch when Phil says from down the hallway, "Your opinion is duly noted, Mr. Stark."

The fighting begins again, but it is half-hearted, and Clint has to admit that, yeah, the fun's gone out of it. Now it's just a mess to clean up.

He helps put the sofa back together, and then he slips out of the room.

Phil is in the shower when he comes into the suite, and Clint smiles. Perfect timing.

On Phil's side of the bed, he sets down a brand new, unopened and mint Captain America figure. It's not worth any more than the MSRP right now, but Phil will want it for his collection anyway. He hesitates for a moment before laying another figure next to it. It's bizarre to see his own plasticized, barely recognizable face staring up at him through the bubble, and he resists the urge to turn it over.

The shower turns off and he slips back out of the suite to help the others finish cleaning up.

It's probably ridiculous, this wish he has to somehow be a part of Phil's collection. He's not jealous, not exactly -- Phil collects Cap memorabilia because it's what he's always done. It reminds him of his childhood and simpler days, and it doesn't matter that the real thing lives down the hall now, that they know he hates mushrooms and loves dried pineapple and can't stand the sound of styrofoam rubbing against itself. Phil collects Cap memorabilia, not Steve memorabilia.

So Clint's not jealous, but he can't help but want to be... treasured.

He feels like an idiot as soon as he thinks it, and he has to duck into an empty hallway until the heat fades from his cheeks.

Phil doesn't mention the action figures, but he gives Clint a smile and a kiss before they join the others for dinner, and Clint knows it's a thank you.

The next morning, when Phil is once again in the shower, Clint goes into the room they use as an office. Most of Phil's collection is in storage -- indoor, climate-controlled, no-pests-guaranteed storage -- but some of it is gathered in a little alcove here in their suite. The new Captain America figure is resting in its blister-pack against an ancient, somewhat battered box that holds a Cap and the Howling Commandos 15 piece playset.

Little Hawkeye is nowhere to be seen. Clint's heart sinks.

Days pass with no mention or sighting of the figure. The Avengers have photo-ops, they pass out the toys to needy kids and visit the community centers and hospitals, in between all the crazy wannabe villains and science experiments gone catastrophically wrong. Clint spends much more time than is probably healthy wondering what Phil's done with it.

Maybe he's already put it in storage, he thinks as he brushes his teeth one night.

Could be in the safe deposit box, he muses while he's on the range.

It's in his desk, he assures himself as he's filling out his after-action report at SHIELD one afternoon, glancing surreptitiously around Phil's office. In the drawer where he keeps extra pens and ties and post-it notes. It won't be mint for long rattling around in there -- the card will get dinged up and the bubble will get dented -- but he tells himself that that's okay, because it's close to Phil for part of the day.

Some days -- most days -- he thinks Phil tossed it back in the carton with the other action figures to be given away.

He resolves over and over to stop thinking about it, but he can't, and he finds himself glaring at the new Captain America figure whenever he's in their home office.

One morning about three weeks after the action figures first show up, Phil is getting ready for work while Clint makes breakfast in their suite's kitchen. Phil's arranging his briefcase as Clint turns from the stove, and if he hadn't turned when he did, he never would have seen the quick shine of black and maroon and flesh-colored plastic nestled in among Phil's files and flash drives.

Clint freezes and waits, and is rewarded with another lightning-fast glimpse.

It's little Hawkeye. He's off his card and out of his bubble, and now Clint notices that his tiny bow is tucked into one of the pen slots, and he's no longer mint, and Clint doesn't care, because he's in Phil's _briefcase_ , which goes _everywhere_ with Phil.

Clint's grinning like a goofball as he grabs Phil's wrist and yanks him close. Phil makes a startled sound against Clint's mouth, but he responds quickly, his lips parting eagerly under Clint's. He is warm and solid, he tastes like coffee and toothpaste, and Clint hums happily into the kiss as Phil's hands slide to his waist, curl over his hips to pull him in closer.

Breathless, Phil pulls back to study him, eyes wide, his confused curiosity deepening as Clint just continues to smile.

"The eggs are going to burn," Phil says, but Clint can just see the little plastic bow in the pen slot over his shoulder, and he laughs.

"Don't care," he says, and he pulls Phil towards him once more.


End file.
